


middle child syndrome

by damedanbo



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Brotherhood, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Family, Gen, Pre-Advent Children, also pre-motorcycles, light nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damedanbo/pseuds/damedanbo
Summary: On being Mother's least favorites.





	middle child syndrome

Night rose over the forest, dark and cold and silent. The three of them sat in the dark, waiting for something they knew would come soon, for Mother to speak to her chosen son and leave the other two to whisper between themselves, wondering what she had to say to Kadaj that couldn’t be said to them, too.

When Kadaj sensed her, he stood and gave them an order. “Stay here.” And when Kadaj gave an order, they followed. Yazoo watched his younger brother leave, disappearing into the forest, while Loz pouted, knees drawn to his chest, head bent, sulking over not being Jenova’s favorite.

“Don’t cry, Loz.” Yazoo said, reaching for him. Loz jerked away, smacking Yazoo’s hand, head still down.

“I’m  _ not  _ crying.”

“Then don’t sulk. It’s childish.”

Loz sniffed and lifted his head, staring straight ahead. It was a chilly night; a wind cut between the trees, or perhaps it came down from directly above them and into the clearing, a punishment for their existing in this forest. Loz shivered and chewed on his lip.

“Do you think we can light a fire?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It will attract attention.” And it would; they had learned that early on, that fire attracted travellers, locals, and bounty hunters like moths, and that led to trouble. Trouble led to a body count, trailing in their wake. It was better not to.

“Kadaj didn’t say we couldn’t,” Loz muttered after a while, dipping his head down again to pout some more. Yazoo sighed, lifting his head to look up at the cloudy night sky. No stars, no moon. Just navy-grey overcast. 

“It’s going to rain anyway,” he said finally, looking back over at his brother, huddled over and shaking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Loz sniffled. “I’m cold.”

In some ways, Loz was the youngest, nevermind their physical appearances. He embodied pure childishness, and that combined with his brute strength was… dangerous. He had been known to throw temper tantrums,  _ and _ he was armed.

“Come here,” Yazoo sighed. Loz glanced over at him, and Yazoo opened his arms, inviting his brother in for a hug. Loz scooted closer and leaned his head on Yazoo’s shoulder.

“Do you think big brother will come?” Loz asked, his breath on his brother’s neck, voice humming right near Yazoo’s ear.

“Hm… Maybe.”

“What will we do? If he comes and Kadaj isn’t here.”

“We’ll handle it.”

It wasn’t like they  _ couldn’t  _ act without Kadaj’s permission. The two of them, Yazoo and Loz, almost made a whole person, a whole soul, and that was probably enough to make life or death decisions on the spot. The fire thing, though--that was just common sense.

Loz shifted, pretting his nose into Yazoo’s neck, and inhaled. “You smell good. What is that?”

“Soap.”

“Where’d you find it?”

Yazoo sighed by way of answer, and lifted his hand to pat Loz’s head softly. His hair didn’t look it, but it was soft, as Yazoo imagined an animal would be. Animals didn’t like them, avoided them--but he’d seen cats, and dogs, and chocobos. This must be what they felt like, too.

“You’re warm,” Loz purred, clinging to Yazoo like a life preserver and leaning them back towards the ground. Yazoo made a face, too aware of the dead leaves and bugs that could find their way into his hair or his coat now.

“Yazoo?”

“What,” he sighed. Loz lifted his head, looking down at him.

“Do you think Mother will ever talk to us?”

What a tough question to dodge. Short answer: no. Jenova’s interests lie in Kadaj, the favorite, the chosen, the redo of her first son. He knew that. He and Loz were only tools to help Kadaj in achieving the reunion. They were extras, throwaways. They existed to make Kadaj’s mission easier.

“Maybe,” Yazoo said quietly, looking past Loz at the cloudy night above. Something wet plopped against his cheek. “Don’t cry--”

“I’m not,” Loz said, and looked upwards. Another drop hit Yazoo, and then many more, a torrent of rain coming down upon them. Some new kind of punishment for their existence. Loz pulled away, trying to cover his head. Yazoo rolled over and pushed himself upright, standing and dragging his brother after him, away from the clearing.

“Kadaj said--!”

“It’s raining, Loz,” Yazoo said, releasing Loz’s arm. The bigger man caught up, running alongside him. 

“Where can we go?” Loz called over the heavy downpour as it pelted them with cold water.

Yazoo blinked the rain out of his eyes, scanning the area. Surely there had to be something, somewhere they could escape to.

Loz yelled something else over the rain, and Yazoo stopped, turned to look. “Cabin!” Loz yelled again, pointing, and Yazoo followed his finger to a dark little structure, tucked away in the woods, hopefully abandoned.

“Let’s go,” Yazoo called, and the two of them made a run for it, splashing through puddles and skidding on thick, hydrated moss. 

Loz kicked the door in, and the two of them hurried inside, dripping wet and chilled to the bone. The bigger brother propped the door back against the opening they’d come in through, then turned to Yazoo for further instruction.

“Take off your clothes,” Yazoo said, already unzipping his long jacket, head tipped back to allow him access.

“Why?!”

“You’re cold, aren’t you?”

Loz stared at him quizzically, but did as he was told, toeing off his boots and peeling off his leathers, watching as Yazoo stopped to start a fire in the hearth.

“I thought you said we couldn’t,” Loz said, inching closer to the new source of heat to crouch beside it.

“Nobody will see it here. Besides, it would be bad for Kadaj if we got sick.” And he was cold. If there was anything he could do to warm up, including lighting a fire, he would do it.

Yazoo hung their leathers across the room to dry, and the two of them huddled, naked, next to the fire. Loz held his hands out, and Yazoo bit back the urge to command him to be careful; Loz had only burned himself once, their first night, and it hadn't happened again since. He should give his brother some credit.

“Who do you think lived here?” Loz asked, looking over his shoulder at the dusty cabin.

“Who knows,” Yazoo said, wishing immensely that he could use his soap and take a hot bath right now. His hair was all tangled, and being rained on just didn’t make him feel clean.

“What are you thinking about?” Loz asked a while later, when they had sat in silence for a few minutes.

“That I’m cold.”

“What else?” Loz leaned closer, studying him.

“I’m thinking that Kadaj will be glad when we’ve reached Midgar.” Loz looked away at that. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You won’t be?”

“I just think.. I really like travelling together. Even when Kadaj isn’t really there a lot… It’s nice just to be together. And when we get there, it’ll end. That’s all.”

Yazoo started in to the fire. That was surprisingly… understandable. It made some amount of sense that Loz might be enjoying their journey, that maybe it made him… happy, to be around his brothers.

And of course it would end when they reached Midgar. Every step they took was one step closer to the Reunion, to bringing back the ghost of General Sephiroth, to the both of them disappearing. Back to nothingness. Back to non-existence.

He had been trying not to think about it. The dark, the cold, the empty before life, before Mother had put them into the world. When it was all over, there would be no Lifestream for them. They would return to that, to darkness, to being alone and silent forever, unable even to cry out into the nothing.

“Yazoo? Don’t cry, Yazoo, please,” Loz said, crawling closer to wipe his brother’s tears.

“I’m not,” Yazoo gasped, scrubbing furiously at his eyes.

“It’s okay. It’ll take us a long time to get there anyway, walking. Right? So we have plenty of time to play around together until then."

“Loz… You idiot,” Yazoo whispered, hiding his face. Of course Loz didn’t get it. It didn’t matter how long they had, it mattered that it would end, and then there would be nothing ever again.

“Don’t cry,” Loz repeated. “Here, look at me.” Yazoo lifted his head to look. “I’m scared too. But I’ll protect you, okay? No matter what.”

He just couldn’t shut up, could he.

Loz wrapped his arms around his brother, rocking with him. “It’ll be okay,” Loz promised, and Yazoo bit his lip to hold back any more pathetic sniffling sounds. 

The night passed like that, the two of them sitting up by the fire, talking in soft voices and occasionally holding each other. And come daylight, when the sun slipped through the cracks between the door and the doorframe, Yazoo shook his brother awake and the two of them redressed in their dry leathers and boots, and headed back into the forest.

“Where were you two idiots?” Kadaj demanded when they returned to the clearing. “I thought I told you to stay. You really can’t follow orders, can you? It’s just as Mother said, I can really only rely on myself, and her.”

He continued on like that for a few minutes, letting them have it. As he ranted, Loz’s gloved hand found its way into Yazoo’s, and they linked their fingers together casually, easily.

Kadaj had Mother. They had each other. And the Reunion was still far away.

They had time.

**Author's Note:**

> just me being self indulgent again.


End file.
